


function

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Caretaking, Friendship, Gen, Humanity, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Sickfic, Spoilers - Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: KINGDOM HEARTS III SPOILERSFresh into humanity, Isa catches the flu.





	function

All of this was remarkably new. He had forgotten how the most simple of things could feel. The sunshine on your face… a stark contrast to the cold of the castle that he had grown so accustomed to. Radiant Garden hadn’t been home for a long time. He hadn’t a heart for a long time. Being there now, back in _this_ castle… it was overwhelming, he had to admit. So many things were, with a heart that belonged to himself once again.

A soft knock to the door is his wake-up call, as it has been, for two days prior now. “Isa. We don’t mean to disturb you–”

Isa swallows down the continued indignation of being doctored, and raises his voice to reply before Ienzo can continue. “Come _in.”_ His voice rasps, and his body shakes along with it. Perhaps he still needs the supervision. Coming back had been painful. Product of _four_ Keyblade wielders having at him prior to fading away. Sora… Roxas and Xion… those three aside, Lea had never felt the need to hold back with him, either. It’s no small wonder he had _ached_ upon his return.

Pride keeps him acerbic enough to loathe the coddling, though. Ienzo peers into the room and grants him good morning. Ansem the Wise continues to be his constant shadow on these little check-ins; Isa shifts beneath the blankets, unable to get comfortable. He feels hot and woozy, a feeling plaguing him at the sight of old, familiar faces, and the memory of old, failed missions. Things he had never accomplished. Things he had done nonetheless.

He wonders if he’ll get used to seeing all of these faces again.

Ansem smiles, warm, and Isa thaws. If only a little.

Then, Ienzo is there, ready to poke and prod at Isa’s physical and mental health. That, too, feels strange; to have _Zexion_ tending _him._ But then Zexion is gone. Just as Saïx is. Isa needs to let their past go. “How are you feeling?”

Isa swallows a sigh. “Much the same.” The truth feels foreign on his tongue. He almost gets caught up in the feeling, the weight of the words in his mouth. He is so used to _lying._ “Does ‘human’ satisfy as an answer, yet?”

“It does.” Ienzo’s smile is kind. He's clearly used to humanity by now. Isa is envious. “Your return was hasty. Until we’re certain the process hasn’t affected you negatively, it’s necessary to keep checking in… I’m sorry.”

Isa raises a hand, dismissing the apology. He knows. He’s been told. That asides, Ienzo’s concern, unhidden away by hair longer than Isa remembers, makes his stomach churn. There truly are aspects of this caretaking he wants to bypass as quickly as possible. He’s never been fond at being looked at like that.

_Concern._ Another one of those strange concepts.

“However…” Ansem speaks up, and Isa lifts his chin from the blankets. That’s new.

Ienzo looks around. His eyes are wide, beseeching. He’s hanging off of Ansem’s every word, these days. “Today?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“It hasn’t even been a full seventy-two hours…”

“And, unlike Even previously, Isa is exhibiting wondrous progress. I see no reason to confine him to this room any longer.”

Isa props an elbow beneath himself. “I can go?” He’s been stuck here since returning. The lack of desire to do much of anything– lack of feeling well enough to, anyway– has kept him securely in this bed, but… as constantly revisited, it has been a _long_ time since he’s seen the outside world with the proper emotions to comprehend it. He won’t admit it, but he wants to see the city again. Perhaps it will remind him of things long past… help him to remember himself, as he’d once been.

Maybe it’s all a forlorn hope, but he’d like to be back on his feet regardless.

_“If_ you promise to come back,” Ansem says sternly. “You are not _healed,_ Isa. But we must take steps nonetheless. It wouldn’t do to have you confined to your bed should you feel well enough to wish to leave it.”

“Perhaps explore the castle first?” Ienzo asks, but busies himself with the rest of the examination. “It’s changed in the years we’ve been gone.”

Isa finds himself endlessly distracted by the pulse monitor. He finds himself agreeing without knowing what he’s agreeing to, and the two men seem happy to let him cope on his own once they’re certain he can stand on his own two feet.

“Baby steps,” Ansem says seriously, and Isa can’t help but feel this is some sort of _test_ in itself. No matter. He’ll not stray far. No longer a pawn of the Organization, he has no control of the dark corridors, and now? He truly has nowhere to go now.

 

 

The castle has changed. He barely recognizes any of it anymore. Maybe it’s because he’d grown so accustomed to the Castle that Never Was. It’s warmer here, brighter… not as big, but the twists and turns of hallways he doesn’t remember _frustrate_ him now, and his skin prickling with something akin to unease doesn’t help.

When he finds a turn he remembers, he follows it all the way to what had once been their common room. The memories are still there, murky and mostly forgotten. But the sight before him brings them back, and they come away with a cold chill and _hurt._ Isa shakes it free, annoyed, and is resigned to returning to his room without seeing the city at all when there’s another familiar sight before him. How he’d missed the shock of tousled red spilling off the armrest of the couch, he isn’t sure.

Lea is so very predictably asleep on the sofa, and the sight is so familiar, but _welcome,_ that Isa can’t help a sharp, half resigned laugh.

The man shifts on the couch, and then stretches. Long and languid, tendrils of that unkempt hair draping into his face. He looks the way he had just like every other time Saïx had come to find the man dozing in the common room when he was meant to be _working._

“Why am I not surprised?” Isa intones. His voice is still a little weak, and his head throbs as Lea cracks open an eye to look up at him.

“Hey,” Lea protests. If Isa sounds sluggish, Lea sounds ten times worse. “I’m…” He seems to realize, then, where _he_ is and _who_ is standing before him. “Isa!” he exclaims, and scrambles to push himself upright.

Lea’s another face he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to seeing. Because, human or not, Lea still looks like _Axel._ Then again, _he_ still looks like Saïx. He wonders if it feels as strange for Lea to look at him as it does when he looks at Lea. “No,” he says, and raises his eyebrows in an old, practiced motion. “You’re Lea. Don’t tell me you forgot your own name.”

“You know what I meant, what are you doing up? Are you okay?” He reaches out a hand, whether it’s to steady him or merely to reach out. Like in the days prior, like at the confrontation in the Keyblade Graveyard, he hesitates; stops halfway through and Isa purses his lips at the reminder that they have not been _okay_ for awhile. As if he could forget.

But Lea does what he’s always does: pushes through. So the hand that settles at Isa’s shoulder is somehow both a surprise and not, setting his nerves alight with old memories and uncertain promises for the future. Isa is envious for the fact Lea never seems to give up, no matter what he had told him before the final battle.

“They didn’t tell me they were letting you out today. They _did_ give you permission to wander around, didn’t they?”

“I think you’re mistaking your tendencies for mine,” Isa says, and Lea grins. It’s the same smile from when they were kids. Blissfully unchanged. He thinks it catches his breath in his throat, and then realizes he really has stopped breathing when the vertigo crashes over him.

“Woah, hey!” Now both hands are hanging onto his shoulders. “You idiot, you should be in bed!”

Isa’s already shaking his head before Lea finishes. “I’m _tired_ of being in bed.” It comes out too sharp. These emotions will be the death of him. But he doesn’t mind them. How _could_ he? “Ansem the Wise and Ienzo cleared me. Relax, would you?”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“It’s…” Honesty, it is a bittersweet concept. “… just a lot to get used to,” he admits, and the severe expression on Lea’s face melts away. Maybe that will stop him worrying. It _is_ the truth, and Lea had to have dealt with the transition between Nobody and human. He would understand.

“Yeah… fine. Okay.” He takes a step back from Isa to lean against the sofa. “So what are you doing? What are we doing?”

“Looks like you were sleeping.”

“Hey, _I_ went through rigorous Keyblade training! Gonna be a Keyblade Master, remember?” He jerks his thumb into his chest, looking as proud of himself as he had the day they had finally snuck their way into the castle so many years ago.

“Really… it looked to me as though Xemnas made quick work of your… Keyblade training.” It’s  perhaps a low blow. They haven’t talked about the other day. But he feels confident in the small jab, if only because he has known Lea for so long.

As predicted, Lea waves it off. “Just some hiccups, you know how it is. Merlin said both me and Kairi were good. Besides, we were off training for a _really_ long time. Like, it was this forest where time didn’t flow, really, so lots of days and nights in the ring. I gotta catch up on my sleep now that I’m back.”

“Mm.”

He crosses his arms, but keeps speaking, anyway. “It was kinda nice, though. I still don’t even know if it was a real place or not, but it was… beautiful. You should have seen it. I know! Maybe Merlin can take us back when _you_ start your training, too!”

He doesn’t know what’s more amusing: Lea’s abrupt change in demeanor or the fact that he thinks Isa will _wield a Keyblade_ one day. He lets it go. Lea has always been fantastical, and, well, stranger things have happened. The future is cloudy. He’s unable to think about it over the ache in his head that seems to present itself when he tries.

Something more immediate, then. “I’d settle with seeing the town, for now.”

“You… well, of course you haven’t seen it. Not since you grew this back.” He taps on Isa’s chest. “You should. You want me to come along? Actually, I’m coming with you anyway. Dilan’d kick my ass if I let you go alone.”

_Dilan._ All of their old… friends. Old faces. This truly is overwhelming. “If you say so,” he says instead. “I know there’s no talking you out of something when you get it into your head.”

Lea taps a fingertip to a temple. He looks so very at ease. Like he had never lost himself under the press of Xemnas’s thumb. Like he had never stopped being human. “Course not. You know me so well.”

Isa masks a grimace, and wonders.

 

 

Town has changed. He’d been in and out since he had been younger, visiting _Hollow Bastion_ on missions straight from Xemnas. Orchestrating all of the unseen that the rest of them had been unaware of. But he’d never stopped to appreciate it, and, that asides, the city had been undergoing its restoration effort then. Now, it’s new and shiny, and Isa… barely recognizes it at all.

“The restoration committee’s done really well, though.”

Isa rubs a hand along an arm to chase away a chill, and looks sideways at him. “I seem to recall you spent all of your time in Twilight Town, not here.”

“I did _not_ spent all my time in Twilight Town.” Lea runs his hands through his hair. Bare skin, no marks under his eyes, the Organization coat traded for a long shirt and hooded vest. He brushes a piece of hair behind an ear, and shrugs. He looks the same, but different. “But, yeah, guess I didn’t really come here much. Didn’t have a reason to.”

He asks before he thinks. “Did you miss it?”

Lea looks surprised, for a second. Then he narrows his eyes and looks back ahead. “I dunno. Did _you?”_ He’s pouting; Isa watches as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

It’s with an aching heart– unfamiliar– that he responds, wry. “I don’t know,” he echoes, and continues to follow Lea on his tour around the city.

If something hasn’t changed, it’s the fact that they can fall into silence without chatter to fill the void. Isa’s glad for that, if nothing else. He’s _tired._ He blames it on the past week and his own recovery; it’s to be expected. He’s had worse. He’ll push through until they make their way back to the castle, and then he’ll sleep for the rest of the night.

The city is nice, and the company is better. If Lea notices that he’s dragging, he isn’t saying anything about it yet.

“Ice cream? It’s not sea salt, but, uhhh… Scrooge, I think, I dunno, he got a few shoppes popped up around here before he moved on to Twilight Town. Lots of stuff I haven’t even tried yet.”

The offer plunges ice into his veins, and Isa thinks he might not be able to hide the tremor that tears through him.

Proven, a moment later. “Hey, you okay?” Lea leans into his personal space. Isa steps back. “Isa.”

“A little cold for ice cream, isn’t it?” It’s the closest he can get to a protest right now, and sweep his thumb through a patch of gooseflesh on his forearm. It _is_ too cold.

“Whaddya mean, cold?” Lea narrows his eyes. “It’s not cold.”

He rationalizes as Lea speaks. Isa had been presented with short sleeves upon waking. Certain though he is that clothing is sparing for _him_ right now, Lea always had been particularly averse to cold and would have rather worn their old uniform than expose his arms to the temperature. Which means, given _Lea’s_ short sleeves, it is not cold. _Isa’s_ the only one who’s cold. Increasingly pained and unsteady as they’ve continued through the city.

“… oh,” he says dumbly, and now that he’s aware of the cold and the ache and the feeling in the pit of his stomach, he can’t quite ignore it.

“Isa?” Lea puts his hand on Isa’s face; for the moment it’s there, it feels _flaming._ He grits his teeth, and Lea frowns. “You’re burning up.” A fever… it explains some things. “You… _hell,_ Isa!” He grabs at Isa’s arm. “You’ve been hiding this the whole time??”

“No.” Isa’s lips quirk. “Not the _whole_ time.”

“Don’t be stupid!”

He winces at the volume, and pretends he doesn’t see the agonized look that flashes across Lea’s face. “Really, Lea, I thought it was just… part of the process.”

“We need to get you back. Right now.” His hands leaves Isa’s arm, and he lets him lean against his shoulder instead. Then he’s tearing through his pockets to find… something, and only gives a soft _“aha”_ under his breath a moment later when he does.

Isa doesn’t recognize the device he pulls free, and watches blankly as Lea jabs at tiny pictures on the small screen. “What is that?”

“A phone.”

“A phone?”

“To call and tell them you’re _sick,”_ he spits, like it’s been Isa’s fault all along (so, it has been, _partially)_ and raises the device to his ear. He talks into it for a minute or two, rattling on to someone (Ienzo, Isa thinks he’d said) but only seems to work himself into more of a worry by the time he shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Okay. They said you just probably pushed yourself too far, too fast, but they want you back ASAP. We’re going.”

“Yes, sir…”

“It’s not _funny.”_ Lea’s voice twists the words into venom, worry laced with anger. Isa sees right through it. But… he can still be contrite. He is, for once. It’s no longer just a mirage.

“Sorry.” He has to focus, then, on putting one foot in front of the other. It’s a gargantuan task, now that he feels properly ill. … and he’s suddenly grateful he hadn’t just let slip _that_ bit of colorful poetry. The apology is more than enough to have said aloud.

“Jeez.” Lea slips his arm around his waist, and Isa inhales. He isn’t used to… _people._ Ienzo’s fussing is merely tolerable because he’s gotten used to it. Casual contact feels like it will take years. “You really _are_ taking after me!” Lea continues, accuses, and Isa shrugs a shoulder.

“Would that be so bad?” he asks, quiet, and then wonders why he’d asked at all. What is _wrong_ with him? He briefly hopes Lea will let it slide because of the fever, but, predictably, he does not.

“Yeah! I mean, have you _seen_ me? I’m terrible. Don’t be like me. I’m a bad influence.”

Isa is saved a reply by having to swallow down a laugh. Or maybe it’s just the nausea.

Between the two of them, Lea’s markings have vanished, but Isa still has his scars.

 

 

By the time they arrive back at the castle, he thinks he’s near delirious. Amazing. He had forgotten how _frail_ humans were. He makes Lea stop so that he can heave into the bushes before stepping foot back into the castle, where they’re immediately accosted by no less than four of the castle’s many, many occupants.

“Isa!” Ienzo’s almost as frantic as Lea. That's probably saying something. His hands are on him in various place, face and arms and bracing against his chest. The activity makes him feel horrendous. “We _told_ you to take it easy today.”

“Just get him inside,” Aeleus says.

“Foolish,” Dilan interrupts, and then turns to face Lea. “If you went out with him, you were meant to _watch_ him.”

“Hey, like I can talk Isa out of something he wants to do.”

“I think you’re mistaking him for you.”

“You wanna cut me a little slack here?”

Isa’s certain he’s going to vomit again. Perhaps the mortification will be complete, and he’ll sink into slumber here on the floor afterwards. He isn’t sure being conscious is preferable right now.

Perhaps he still isn’t hiding it as well as he’d like.

“Just give him some space, will you?” Lea’s there, then, crowding past everyone else save Ienzo and Ansem. “If he pukes on you, I’m gonna say ‘I told you so.’” Lower, now, head turning closer to Isa’s ear. “You look like crap. I don’t guess you’ll let anyone else help you, so, just… hang onto my arm, alright? Don’t try to play it big right now.”

Isa grits his teeth, and nods. He doesn’t have much choice. Although even Lea now runs the risk of being vomited on for standing so close. He doesn’t open his mouth to say such a thing.

“What matters now,” Ansem says, and the chatter dies down, “is getting Isa back to his room. Lea, Ienzo, see him there. We’ll go on ahead.”

“Right. We’ll be right there.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not letting him out of my sight.”

It remains difficult to keep himself upright. There are good parts to being human. This isn’t one of them. He can remember being sick from before; now that the dragging lethargy is back, it’s easy to remember from the past. Down sick with the flu, tangled up in his blankets as he’d curled into bed… cold, so cold. As cold as he is now.

Lea had shown up outside his window that day, bored and eager for activity. It had turned around fairly rapidly once he’d seen the condition Isa had been in. He’d stayed for awhile and then gone, and had come back the next day with the closest approximation of homemade soup. He never had been good in the kitchen. They hadn’t been good at a lot of things, back then.

Then again, maybe they haven’t changed much, on that regard.

His body is _protesting_ humanity by the time they reach his room. His muscles shake, wracking his body, and he’s breathing hard. He tries to ease into bed and nearly falls into it instead. It’s easier to try and drown out everyone else with a hand clutched at his shirt, focusing on the pounding in his chest.

He thinks he must fall asleep like that, counting every thump of his very own heartbeat.

 

 

There is terror on his tongue when he wakes. He’s… rather forgotten what that felt like. He’s also forgotten how much he dislikes it.

He doesn’t remember what the dream was about. Which is probably for the best, and Isa isn’t going to lay here losing more sleep thinking about it. He lets the dark residue of the nightmare fade away best it can, and breathes out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“Isa?”

He’ll not admit later the flinch when it comes, but he feels it all the way down to his toes. Still very much ill, then. Even before he opens his eyes, his teeth are already starting to chatter. Definitely still ill.

Lea’s leaning back in a chair, feet propped up on the bed, holding some book Isa can’t see the title of. He almost looks studious… except he looks worried instead, now. “You’re okay.”

It takes a great deal of effort to reply without his teeth clicking together. “… in theory.” Dreams aside, he feels wretched.

“Ha. Yeah, that.” Lea’s feet hit the floor, and Isa winces slightly. “But hey, it’ll pass. You always did bounce back fast.”

_Is that supposed to be reassuring?_ The sentiment is too much to try and articulate as he’s still waking. Instead, he lets his eyes pass across the room, briefly, and settle on the clock at the far wall.

“It’s late,” Lea supplies. “Ienzo was about to fall asleep standing there, so Ansem talked him into going to bed for a little while. Said I’d keep watch and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

Isa finds it within himself to roll his eyes, then, and stares at the cup of water as his old friend presents it.

“You should drink something. Something cold, but, well, this is room temperature and you look like you’re freezing, anyway.” A smile, tired and worn. But it still reminds Isa of the time Lea had been standing outside his window, enthusiasm dampened with worry, telling him he’d be okay.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” Lea says, and that same enthusiasm is almost there. Almost. They’re both older now. They’ve seen too much. But it’s recognizable nonetheless, and… appreciated more than he can express.

Isa hums wordlessly, and takes the cup.

“Gimme a sec, I’ll grab you a pill. Cold meds,” he explains. “If we can get sick again, stands to reason this stuff works on us again, too.” He pops a capsule free of the foil, and then hands it to Isa. “Not that there’s any proof on that. We’re kinda the test subjects, you know? And no one else has really gotten sick, so…”

“So _I’m_ the test subject,” Isa murmurs.

“Well… yeah.”

It doesn’t matter. It’ll help or it won’t. He certainly can’t feel _worse._ So, he places the pill, smooth and tasteless, on his tongue, and chases it down with three gulps of tepid water. Lea’s waiting to take the cup from him afterwards to set it aside.

“You gonna go back to sleep?”

Isa inclines his head in response, and tries to get comfortable. That, too, is a lost cause. His body is aching, and the weight of Lea’s gaze, helpful but _piercing,_ keeps him from squirming too often.

“You feel any better at all yet, though?”

“It’s too soon, Lea.” He barely makes a whisper, but that’s alright. “I’ve only barely gotten sick.”

“No, there’s twenty-four hour things! Probably… not this… but…”

“Probably not this,” Isa agrees.

Once again he’s forgotten how _terrible_ this is. He’s exhausted, and uncomfortable, but nothing seems to ease the discomfort. He can’t even drift off again, which may be the worst thing of all. Perhaps it’s the headache. The cold pill can’t work fast enough.

Eventually, Lea is the one to break the silence when he realizes Isa isn’t sleeping again. “You, uhhh… you been alright? The past couple days?”

So they are going to talk about it. “I wouldn’t precisely say I’m at the top of my proverbial game,” he says, a little dry, “but I’m going to be fine.”

“It’s… well, it’s weird. You and I, all of us Nobodies turned human, we’ve got control over our own destinies now. What are we supposed to do with that?”

“Whatever we’d like, I imagine.”

“That’s just it, I’ve got no idea.” His hands seize around the book in his lap, and then relax. “We still haven’t found her. Ansem doesn’t even know. And _now_ Sora and Kairi are still missing, but I’ve got a feeling we can’t help _either_ of those two, wherever they are. And Braig _still_ hasn’t turned back up.”

_Troublesome._ He doesn’t say the word, because they’re clearly both thinking it. Braig, like the rest of them, should have been returned to humanity. His disappearance can’t bode well, but Isa can’t begin to imagine what it means. There were no other plans. There were no loopholes or schemes. Things were meant to be over. Laying here now, hands folded on his chest and fighting a fever, of all things, proved that they were. So, the uncertainties of the thing…

His head continues to throb. He raises a hand to rub at the ache there, and then traces the lines of the scars over the bridge of his nose. The phantom pain was a constant, these days and since he’d received the marks. As a Nobody, easily ignored. Now as painful as the headache itself, and Isa brushes his fingertips over the marks to soothe the pain. Almost absentmindedly, until Lea brings it up.

“Do they still hurt?”

“No.” He drops his hands back to the blankets.

“Isa.”

“Why are you so incredibly overbearing?”

“Why are you so impossibly stubborn!?”

They’re at an impasse, he thinks, as he looks up at Lea and Lea looks down at him. Or, they’re _still_ at an impasse. Perhaps it won’t change so quickly. There’s nothing to prove it will at all, but… Isa hopes. Being able to possess the ability to do so, he allows himself to hope.

Lea looks away first. “It used to be the other way around…”

Then, it’s Isa who breathes a small sigh, and reaches out a hand to gesture to the small bowl sitting on the bedside table, one presumably full of cool water and a compress.

“What?”

“Well?” He twitches his fingers. “I’ve a fever, don’t I?”

Lea stares, and continues to stare, and then drags his chair forward enough to be able to grab the bowl. “Right.”

He supposes it’s his own fault for closing his eyes, but he’s still surprised when Lea smooths the compress over his forehead, anyway. He jerks in surprise, a little; there’s silence from above him and then the cloth is pressed more forcefully over his face. He splutters when ice water drips down the bridge of his nose.

“Jeez.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” Isa intones. Either way, he adjusts the cloth on his forehead until its soothing the ache beneath his scars as well. Heat would be better, but he’s not presented with many options and he’s not like to admit it right now, anyway.

“I was gonna stick around… the past couple days.” Lea’s the one to break the silence again. Isa can’t see his face with the compress over his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. He can still listen. “You know, hang out with you while you recover. But… figured you might want some time. Wasn’t sure if you wanted familiar faces like I did, or just needed to… reacclimatize. I’m not sure about _anything_ with you anymore.”

_You’re not the only one._ He doesn’t say it. Lea will misconstrue the meaning. Perhaps he doesn’t understand Lea as well as he’d used to, but that isn’t what he means. If Lea isn’t sure about him anymore, Isa is even less so. Perhaps with a heart, he’ll be able to figure it out. For now, it remains a mystery he doesn’t think wise to delve too deeply into, given his _current condition._

“But if you want me, I’m here,” Lea says. “Not that you’d probably ever ask. _Even_ if you don’t ask. The offer still stands.”

Sometimes, Isa loathes the candid nature of _friendship._ It’s been too long, and he’s still too _jaded_ by the concept. By Axel’s jaunts to Twilight Town to have ice cream with the Keyblade’s chosen, as he’d much said. (He stands by his _dying words;_ he won’t say it again.) He had never been good at this, even when they were children, when the world was far more carefree. Now he has too much baggage– they all do– and Isa doesn’t know where to begin sorting through _that,_ either.

“ … did you seriously fall asleep while I was trying to be sentimental here? _Jeez.”_

It’s _tempting,_ to stay silent. But then Isa doesn’t quite manage it. “No,” he says, as flat as he can manage, and feels his lips twitch into a smile when Lea splutters from his chair.

_“Seriously?_ So you’re just, what, laying there, faking?! Come on, I put my heart and soul into this stuff, man…”

He’s increasingly groggy, but he does manage to shift the compress aside just enough to _look_ at Lea. To give him a look he hasn’t been capable of in a long time, he thinks. _Teasing._

Lea seems to recognize it, anyway. “Don’t look at me like that. Your face’ll probably crack from smiling if you keep that up, anyway.”

He resituates the compress. “And if you blush any further, you may yet well catch fire again.”

_“Ugh,_ would you can it!? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep or somethin’?? Jeez.”

“I am, yes.” _But someone keeps speaking._ He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t mind. Not truly.

“Then go to sleep! It’s like you wanna stay sick forever or something, I swear.”

The tiny laugh, moreso a huff of amusement than anything else, finally gives way to a cough. “… I really don’t.” Falling into these old habits could almost make him forget how atrocious he feels. Almost. “I’ll sleep, then,” he murmurs, kneading his fingers into his chest. “If it will please you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Man, why am _I_ babysitting _you?”_

“Don’t know, Lea.”

“Heh, yeah. Me either.”

He’s drifting, then, like the sheer reminder of the illness is pushing him directly into sleep. Pressing before, immediate now. He stifles a yawn, and turns his head, and doesn’t fix the compress when it slides off of his forehead.

Lea does. “I’m gonna stay awhile.”

Ah.

“If that’s… alright.”

Awkward. Lea sounds so _awkward._ It would be funny, if Isa wasn’t mostly asleep. “Can’t get rid of you…” he manages. It’s just as well. He’s never truly wanted to.

“Nah. Not me. ‘specially not now. You, and Roxas, and Xion, Riku, Ansem…everyone, you’re all stuck with me now. There’s no escape.”

Isa thinks he laughs… but then maybe he scoffs. Maybe he doesn’t make a noise at all. The last thing he remembers is Lea’s hand still pressed against his forehead, and then Isa drifts off into sleep once again.

 

_“A deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need of all women,_  
 _men, and children. We are biologically, cognitively, physically, and spiritually_  
 _wired to love, to be loved, and to belong. When those needs are not met,_  
 _we don’t function as we were meant to. We break. We fall apart. We numb._  
 _We ache. We hurt others. We get sick. There are certainly other causes of illness,_  
 _numbing, and hurt, but the absence of love and belonging will **always** lead to suffering.”_  
  
– Brené Brown

**Author's Note:**

> Even five years ago, I was all _GOD Saix UGH_... looks like we all have character development in us, huh? Who knew the first fic I wrote after KH3 would be awkward, finding their footing AkuSai? Not me, but these two have been on my mind since I finished the game
> 
> Honestly I went into KH3 wanting two (2) things: Lea, Roxas, and Xion to be reunited, and Lea and Isa to _talk_. Just talk, because I figured reconciliation was off the books. KH3 gave me _everything_ in their regard. The clocktower conversation. The _fight_. The dying words. Then I saw Lea in a new outfit, got weepy, saw Roxas and Xion, started crying, fucking _sobbed_ when Isa and the rest of them showed up. I'm a simple gal, watch me still crying over all of the Organization's members


End file.
